There was a time when, if someone asked me why anyone would become a Buddhist, I would reply with a tongue only halfway in my cheek, "Death, disease, drugs, divorce." And as with any quickie response, there was something valid in it.
This Christmas season ... there seems to be a peck of mortality insisting in my life. One good friend went out to the barn and then changed his mind about suicide. The father of my younger son's friend committed suicide and my son went to visit his friend by way of consolation. My sister's beloved has segued into what she suspects -- and he declines to address -- is Parkinson's. And I think there is another one in this bag full of Santa's gifts, but I can't recall it immediately ... maybe I am just blocking it out.
My friend in his barn realized, among other things, that his demise would mean difficulty for those left to clean up and lick their mental wounds. My sister, who coped her way through the death of her mother in 2018, continues to care for her mother's dwindling partner, whose hearing and mind crumbles.
Each in its own way is terribly, terribly hard. Wearing, wearing, wearing ... clawing, clawing, clawing.... time passes.
This Christmas season ... there seems to be a peck of mortality insisting in my life. One good friend went out to the barn and then changed his mind about suicide. The father of my younger son's friend committed suicide and my son went to visit his friend by way of consolation. My sister's beloved has segued into what she suspects -- and he declines to address -- is Parkinson's. And I think there is another one in this bag full of Santa's gifts, but I can't recall it immediately ... maybe I am just blocking it out.
My friend in his barn realized, among other things, that his demise would mean difficulty for those left to clean up and lick their mental wounds. My sister, who coped her way through the death of her mother in 2018, continues to care for her mother's dwindling partner, whose hearing and mind crumbles.
Each in its own way is terribly, terribly hard. Wearing, wearing, wearing ... clawing, clawing, clawing.... time passes.
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ReplyDeleteI was thinking about you today. Actually, it was about one of your posts that has stuck with me for many years. Your post, “dressed in robes,” conveyed a sentiment so well that I wanted to find it. And I did.
ReplyDeleteAnd I saw this recent post. Wearing. Yes, that captures the passage of time. But it’s an odd word, wearing. It suggests that we clothe ourselves in life, this life of ours. A strange image.
I was saddened to read of your “gifts”. May the gloom lift for you and for all of us in the new year.